And We All Fall Down

Seven years, seven years it took to build those massive towers. “Skyline Giants” they called them, but even giants crumble in terror. Workers perched at their desks unknowingly awaited their demise, sitting ducks as their hunter closed in. There were handwritten notes placed with love into lunches. “I love you, Dad” scribbled on a Post-It, hung with pride from cork board clinging desperately to the walls of a makeshift cubicle. All at once they glanced out the window on that sunny September morning. Before them a giant metal bullet, cutting sharply through the air, entered the lungs of a nation. As we gasped, the towers that took seven years to build crumbled in 30 seconds.